Her smile faltered a bit. Why didn't Ryan ever seem that excited about her job? He'd once admitted he never even read
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Hamptons magazine, although he did make an exception for her column. But only when she reminded him.
"Sam said that they never sell any stories to the AP. And I got a call the other day from an editor at Harper's Bazaar --they want me to write a little story about 'Hamptons style.' It's only five hundred words, but still."
"Mmm." Ryan nodded again. "Very cool."
"So what's your news?" Mara asked, suddenly remembering Ryan had mentioned having some glad tidings as well.
Ryan immediately lit up again. "There's something for you. On the table."
Mara walked over to her desk. It was a thick white envelope with the Dartmouth crest. "Oh my God," she whispered.
Ryan's eyes were dancing. "You got in! I told you it would happen!"
"I did," Mara breathed, sliding her fingers through the clasp. She removed a package of forms and read the official letter congratulating her on being accepted into Dartmouth's next freshman class.
"Now we can be together!" He enveloped her in a tight hug.
Mara put the forms back in the envelope, feeling conflicted. She should be happy. She had finally gotten what she wanted. She had gotten into Dartmouth. But she remembered the Columbia campus--the energy of the city, the writing program, Danielle's effortless sophistication. Her story was going out on the wires, and she had an assignment from Harper's Bazaar. How
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could she continue to write about fashion if she was stuck in New Hampshire?
She'd wanted Dartmouth so much, but now that she'd gotten it, it felt anticlimactic.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ryan exhorted, giving her a pen so that she could sign the acceptance forms.
He looked so eager and excited for her. Mara remembered why she'd wanted to attend Dartmouth so much in the first place. She and Ryan would be together now; their summer wouldn't have to end. Maybe it was only beginning.
Mara signed her name to the statement, promising to attend Dartmouth in the fall. She put it in her purse. She would mail it tomorrow, with a deposit, as soon as possible. Ryan handed her a stamp.
"C'mon," he urged, pulling her to the kitchen. "Dinner's getting cold."
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Donna karan, eat your heart out
JEREMY DIDN'T THINK SHE HAD PASSION? SHE HAD PASSION.
She would show him she was more than just some kind of shopping addict. He thought that all she could do was spend money? And obviously, even with the job at Lunch (which left her fingers calloused, hello), she still didn't merit his respect. Paige was doing something she loved, while Eliza was just a wage slave. Well, enough of that. She was going to do something she loved.
Everyone always told her she dressed the best--that she had a unique sense of style that everyone wanted to copy, and it was her vision that had made Sydney's show a success--she'd even heard that due to the hype that surrounded her helicopter entrance, orders were up and Sydney's line was back in the black. After working for more than a month at Lunch, Eliza wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty, and she suddenly realized how she could put two and two together--her passion for fashion and her newly acquired work ethic.
She would design her own collection. Just a few pieces, maybe ten outfits total. She just needed one standout piece. Calvin Klein had made his name on the backs of his blue jeans. Donna
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Karan on a stretchy bodysuit. Zac Posen on the strength of one slinky party dress.
Fall meant back to school; back to school usually meant uniforms. Inspired, Eliza sketched out plans to do a working-girl glamour collection: "The Uniform of Fall," she would call it-- cool, trendy pieces inspired by uniforms of all kinds---school uniforms (plaid, tartan, gray wool, burgundy, rep ties), flight attendant uniforms (pencil skirts, waist-nipping jackets, colorful scarves), military uniforms (brass-buttoned coats, epaulets, camouflage), Wall Street uniforms (bespoke suiting, skinny pants, hound stooth). A working woman's uniform--the height of wearable chic.
Anytime she had a break between shifts at the restaurant, she started drawing in her book, and thanks to her internship at Sydney's office, she knew where to find the best pattern makers and fabric retailers available. Her friend Todd, the shoe salesman at Jeffrey, offered to be her business partner, and Eliza couldn't have been more excited about the prospect of setting up her own label.
She was going to show Paige and Sydney a thing or two about real motivation and creative vision--something they both lacked.